"A good deal; but, as you say, that can go over till to-morrow. Did I
tell you that I had a bunch of cattle of my own?"
"I don't remember of it."
"Well, I have. I'm not one of these crazy cowboys who blows in all his
wad on faro and drink--not on your life! I've got some ready chink
stacked away in a Claywall bank. Want to see my bank-book?"
She answered, curtly: "Please take that kettle of slop out and empty it.
And what time did you say the express was due?"
Roy was absorbed, ecstatic. He virtually forgot all the rest of the
world. His herders could ride to the north pole, his pony might starve,
the Cannonball Express go over the cliff, the postmaster die, so long as
he was left in service to this princess.
"Lord A'mighty! wasn't I in luck?" he repeated to himself. "Suppose I'd
'a' roped _her_ instead of the old man!"
When he returned from listening for the train he found her washing her
hands at the end of her task, and the room in such order as it had never
known before. The sight of her standing there, flushed and very womanly,
rolling down her sleeves, was more than the young fellow could silently
observe.
"I hope the old man'll be a long time getting well," he said, abruptly.
"That's a nice thing to say! What do you mean by such a cruel wish?"
"I see my finish when you go away. No more lonely ranch-life for me."
"If you start in on that talk again I will not speak to you," she
declared, and she meant it.
"All right, I'll shut up; but I want to tell you I'm a trailer for
keeps, and you can't lose me, no matter where you go. From this time on
I forget everything in the world but you."
With a look of resolute reproof she rose and joined Mrs. James in the
inner room, leaving Roy cowed and a good deal alarmed.
"I reckon I'm a little _too_ swift," he admitted; "but, oh, my soul!
she's a peach!"
When the train whistled, Lida came out again. "Will you please go to
meet the doctor?" she asked, with no trace of resentment in her manner.
"Sure thing; I was just about starting," he replied, instantly.
While he was gone she asked Mrs. James if she knew the young man, and
was much pleased to find that the sharp-tongued landlady had only good
words to say of Roy Pierce.
"He's no ordinary cowboy," she explained. "If he makes up to you you
needn't shy."
"Who said he was making up to me? I never saw him before."
"I want to know! Well, anybody could see with half an eye that he was
naturally rustlin' round you. _I_ thought you'd known each other for
years."
This brought tears of mortification to the girl's eyes. "I didn't mean
to be taken that way. Of course I couldn't help being grateful, after
all he'd done; but I think it's a shame to be so misunderstood. It's
mean and low down of him--and poor uncle so sick."
"Now don't make a hill out of an ant-heap," said the old woman,
vigorously. "No harm's done. You're a mighty slick girl, and these boys
don't see many like you out here in the sage-brush and pinyons. Facts
are, you're kind o' upsettin' to a feller like Roy. You make him kind o'
drunk-like. He don't mean to be sassy."
"Well, I wish you'd tell him not to do anything more for me. I don't
want to get any deeper in debt to him."
The Claywall physician came into the little room as silently as a Piute.
He was a plump, dark little man of impassive mien, but seemed to know
his business. He drove the girl out of the room, but drafted Mrs. James
and Roy into service.
"It's merely a case of indigestion," said he; "but it's plenty serious
enough. You see, the distended stomach pressing against the heart--"
The girl, sitting in the kitchen and hearing the swift and vigorous
movement within, experienced a revulsion to the awe and terror of the
midnight. For the second time in her life death had come very close to
her, but in this case her terror was shot through with the ruddy
sympathy of a handsome, picturesque young cavalier. She could not be
really angry with him, though she was genuinely shocked by his reckless
disregard of the proprieties; for he came at such a dark and lonely and
helpless hour, and his prompt and fearless action in silencing those
dreadful cowboys was heroic. Therefore, when the doctor sent Roy out to
say that her uncle would live, a part of her relief and joy shone upon
the young rancher, who was correspondingly exalted.
"Now you must let me hang round till he gets well," he said, forgetful
of all other duties.
"That reminds me. You'll need some breakfast," she said, hurriedly; "for
here comes the sun." And as she spoke the light of the morning streamed
like a golden river into the little room.
"It's me to the wood-pile, then," cried Roy, and his smile was of a
piece with the sunshine on the wall.